The Second Coming
by The World Is Silent Here
Summary: What Artemis had to do with the Second Coming of the Witches. Rated for slight gore. Read and review.
1. Information

This fan-fiction runs off after the sixth one, and please do not flame. Too hard. This is my first time with an Artemis Fowl fan-dom, and what I need is your _help_, not your constant raves about how out-of-character my characters are.

*

Artemis never usually paid much attention to the CNN feed, but today he did. And with ample reason. He was following up on the Stargate story. It had started a few weeks back, with the Stargate stocks shooting through the ceiling. Artemis was naturally interested. There had to be a reason for the upstart to shoot past the Fowl stocks themselves. Then the owner and CEO of Stargate Enterprises had been found dead, along with his wife. There were no signs of external injury on their bodies, but an autopsy revealed that they had sustained severe internal injuries and lost a lot of blood.

And today, the headline splashed across the wall was incredulous to the point of unbelievable. The Stargate heir, a child of fourteen, had replaced her father as CEO. The courts were indignant, the child's-rights societies aghast. The feed was running a small interview of the present CEO. The heir was a girl; her name was Jasper Stargate. She had long black hair and ocher eyes against wheat-gold skin. She spoke in a self-confident tone not very unlike Artemis' own when he was ten. And goodness he was annoying then.

"Why do you think I am too young?" she spoke at the camera, steepling her fingers. She had a cold voice that seemed to openly defy the very notion. "I have got the skill, the background, the personality - what more do you need? For me to be ten years older? In which way is that relevant?" The reporter squabbled but Artemis wasn't listening. He suspected foul play. A hack into Interpol and a quick search revealed that he wasn't the only one who'd smelt a rat. The Stargate file was only a few megabytes large, but it was active.

At that very moment an email popped up on his screen. It was from Foaly.

"Code Alpha. _We need your help._" Foaly wasn't the kind to use text formatting in his emails. Now that had happened, the matter must be extremely important. Besides, they'd had no contact either way for over six months, as of then. And the Fairies would never beg him for help, especially not in that way. He acknowledged the email with an equally short reply and waited.

*

A few hours later, he was in the communications booth. Foaly sat on a swivel chair and Holly was there too, perched on top of a stool. They had assumed expressions appropriate to those seen at a funeral, and were oddly tensed. Artemis suspected a lot of things but didn't voice any of them.

"You must be wondering why we need your help," began Foaly.

"Indeed. Either the Fairy race is in danger, or you need something you do not have."

"Both." Foaly took a deep breath and continued "It concerns the the Stargate Enterprises. The heir, to be exact." Artemis gave an almost imperceptible nod. Why did his enemies always have to be multi-billionaire heiresses?

"What we are discussing here," said Holly, "is top secret. If this leaks out _anywhere_, be it the Surface or Haven, there will be utter pandemonium." So this was extremely dangerous information. Artemis had gathered as much by the expressions on the fairies' faces.

"A few millenia ago, an elf-human hybrid race started. They had tainted magic, and needed very few rituals to replenish them. They looked and acted just like humans. They were called the Dark People. They are the Fairies' worst enemy and we thought we were rid of them when they disappeared in fourth millennium BC. They still popped up now and then, though. There was one particularly poisonous one in the fifteenth century. She masqueraded as the handmaid of a countess and managed to finish off at least seven hundred fairies in her time. We cannot kill them very easily, they have the darkest magic under their control - namely, the control over Shadows. Souls."

Artemis blinked. "So the heir is one of the Dark People."

"Yes," said Foaly, sighing. "She is one of them; a Witch. We did not imagine that she could turn into one, especially because of her age. You see, to become a fully fledged Witch, they have to kill all close family. Including parents."

Artemis blinked again. That he hadn't quite been expecting.

"Revolting, I know. That was why we never suspected her. You wouldn't expect a child to do that. The stocks skyrocketing was all her tricks, and that was probably just basic witchcraft. Now she'll be able to do far worse things." Holly sighed. "We need your help for this. She will kill every Fairy she sees. If we decide to use numbers against her, she will run into a cemetery and bring up all the dead."And then, seeing the amused look on Artemis' face, she insisted, "Witches can do that. The Shadow includes that power."

"We need you to set on a task so that we can study the limit of her power. Knowing witches, she will only do it for a price, but this is an entire race at stake. Then we can find out how to finish her off , and hopefully that will be the end of them. Or else," spoke Foaly darkly, "we might as well hold on to our seats and hope she doesn't find us when she sets cursed fire upon Haven. This is the second coming of the Witches, and all the fairies are in mortal danger."

"I gather that these aren't the eye-of-newt-in-cauldron witches in fairy tales," said Artemis.

"Probably not," replied Holly. "The last time we saw them they walked around with bottles of belladonna in their pockets and slipped it into people's food every now and then to replenish their powers. They went out at night on broomsticks to catch fairies dancing in the moonlight." And then, seeing Artemis' face, she said, "Yes. Their Ritual involves the death of a human." She shuddered. "What a garish race. And to think they still survive. Nowadays they are probably a lot more advanced, like us. It's a long time since the fifteenth century."

Artemis considered it, rubbing his temples. If he didn't help them he knew what would happen. If he did help them it meant putting himself in danger. Ah well, he'd been in mortal danger many times before. Besides, this meant trying to save the Fairies - all the dwarves, sprites, goblins, elves, centaurs, Holly... "Yes," he said finally. "I'll do it." He let out an inward sigh. He'd let his heart decide for him again, instead of his mind. Was this going to be a habit? This tendency of his had led him into major trouble as of recent times.

"Nice to see you're blowing on that spark," said Holly, the barest hint of a smile on her taut face.

Artemis smiled back, but he didn't feel as hopeful as he looked. He didn't fully know what he was letting himself in for, and he wasn't too keen on finding out.


	2. First Contact

Here is the second chapter, which some of you have doubtless been waiting for.

*

"Thank you, Artemis," said Foaly. "But there are two things you must observe. Firstly, you must not give her your name. Secondly, and very importantly as well, you must not let her have any of your blood."

Artemis nodded. What kind of idiot would do that?

"And there is one more thing you need to know," said Foaly, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. "The location of her little Wicca hideout. This was procured by a valiant sprite. We never saw him again."

"What happened to him?" asked Artemis, though he could guess.

"The witch caught him and burnt him alive," shuddered Holly. "We detected the heat through the iris-cam. Witches have an affinity for roasting their enemies, even though they cannot bear fire." Artemis gulped. What he had though of wasn't as… _horrible_. Opal Koboi didn't come close to this.

*

"It _had_ to be in Arabia, didn't it?" grumbled Butler. He wasn't the kind to grumble, but Artemis could perfectly understand why. The temperature was hovering around the fifties, and that measure was in Celsius. Artemis did not like sweating, and now he felt like he was going to melt altogether – although he fully knew that that was impossible.

"The location Foaly gave us referred to an area a little far from here," said Artemis. "What worries me is what the word 'little' might mean." The helicopter they were in was like a solar stove – all the sunlight shining full force onto the chopper was being absorbed by the metal surface, turning the inside into an oven.

"That must be it," said Butler, peering at a metal dome in the distance. It shimmered in the heat, a grey metal dome rising out of the sand. It was very large – wider than taller, and it looked rather unnatural there, all alone.

The chopper descended, and they got out of as the still slowly spinning blades blew up the dust about them and made them cough. Artemis approached the dome. There was a door set into the metal, with a small button set into the side. He pressed it.

The door slid upwards, revealing an inner compartment, with another door set into it. He entered, Butler stepping in after him. He pressed the button next to the inner door and it slid upwards too, opening into another room. This one was very large, and rather dark compared to the blinding glare outside. The temperature here was very cold, probably around fourteen or thirteen degrees. When their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they saw a person around Artemis' height standing there, with her back to them. It was Jasper Stargate. The door slid closed behind them.

"Good afternoon, Artemis Fowl," said Stargate, not even bothering to turn. So she was rude as well, to add to the list of negative points. But the truth hit Artemis a little later. _She knew his name. _Foaly's first rule already broken. Smooth.

"Good afternoon," returned Artemis, trying his best to sound sophisticated and dark at the same time. He succeeded, but Stargate showed no sign of it. She turned, and he saw a small smile on her mouth. He was a little taken aback by her beauty. Fourteen but ravishing. Not 'pretty' beautiful but 'femme fatale' beautiful. Evil beauty. Not nice. It sent shivers down any normal person's back. Artemis wasn't a normal person, so he just felt a little uncomfortable. Her canines were very sharp, not to mention twice their usual length. They were painfully obvious. Her ochre eyes glittered like topaz jewels, and her black hair cascaded down her back like a bit of midnight.

"Wrong, Artemis," she said, slurring the 'r's in his name. "It's midmorning. Shows how much you know about the time. It is noon in India. And as far as my DNA data goes, you are Irish." Artemis struggled to keep his expression impassive. This girl was obnoxious as well as rude. But the way she said his name was delicious. He was almost annoyed at his train of thought, and deliberately edged away from that line.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked. "Get rid of an enemy? I'll do my best to record it happening - though it'll be R rated, for gore." She laughed, and Artemis could hear the edge of madness in her laughter.

"Is there anything else?" he asked. "Can you… manipulate the stock market?"

"Of course," she said. "Child's play." She smiled at her little joke, and he saw those canines again. And then she gasped. "I have been a rude host," she said. "Why don't you sit down?" She indicated to two chairs nearby.

"Thank you, ma'am, but I think we'll keep standing," answered Butler. He had spent the last four hours cramped up in a chopper seat.

"Your wish," she mumbled. Then she brightened. "Back to business. By how many points would you like the stock to rise?"

"As many as is possible without causing damage."

"Damage to reputation is inevitable. I'll try my best." Which probably meant that the Fowls would be several grand richer in a week.

"Do you charge for this?"

"Nothing is free, Artemis," she said, slurring the 'r's again. Artemis tried not to think about it. He didn't really succeed.

"How much will it cost?"

"Seven thousand euro. Take it or leave it. You have overnight results, with a minimum of seven points increase an hour." Artemis nearly balked. This was daylight robbery; but, then again, this _was _a witch he was dealing with. "Agreed."

Stargate walked over to a file in the far corner of whatever she was working on. She pulled out a sheet of paper, and placed it on a desk nearby. She took a pen from a drawer, and then looked at them. "Sign," she said. "Both of you." Artemis thought this was odd, but did not say anything. He walked over and took the pen from her. Then something startling happened. Serrated blades shot out from the pen's sides and cut into his fingers. They were very sharp, and Artemis found his hand covered with blood. The pen fell to the floor. It was covered with blood.

He had broken Foaly's second rule as well. This was a deliberate move on Stargate's part.

"Oh dear," she said, picking up the pen. She placed it gingerly on whatever she had been working on when they had arrived, and then began to lick her bloody fingers one by one, like Myles licked flavor dust from his fingers. It was sickening.

A bullet soared from behind Artemis (Butler's Sig Sauer) and buried itself in Stargate's chest. She didn't do so much as flinch. She just looked down a little ruefully, and moaned, "Oh dear, that's going to leave a mark." One would have expected her to scream out "I'm going to die!" or something along those lines. But she just picked out the shining bullet with two long fingers and tossed it aside. The red stain did not grow.

"Never try to kill a witch," snarled Stargate. She licked the length of her little finger before continuing, "Especially not that way. Trust me: it doesn't work."

She turned to Artemis, who was clutching his wrist and trying to stop the flow while looking dignified at the same time, and said, "Would you like to know what I was doing?" She threw out one arm. A red spark flew from it and the insides of the entire dome were lighted for five seconds. Artemis' eyebrows shot up.

The place was far bigger than he'd thought it was. In the middle were seven large tubes, connected to massive machines. These machines were hooked up to small dishes, one of which held the pen. The blood from it was leaking into the machines. A shadow was struggling inside one of the tubes. At least, it looked like a shadow, dark and curled up into a fetal position. It looked vaguely familiar.

"Would you like to know what that is?" asked Stargate, positively gleeful. She pressed a large button next to the dish containing the pen. There was a noise like a drain emptying itself, and then complete silence. Artemis did not really want to know what it was, but a morbid curiosity made him watch, transfixed.

A minute later, a form walked out of the darkness. He was dressed in a suit. Most disturbing was the fact that his eyes had no pupils. As he got closer, Artemis realized who he was. His heart shot up into his throat.

"It's you!" Stargate shrieked in apparent delight. "Heard of voodoo dolls?" he looked at it, and then at him. "Hm," she remarked. "Not perfectly identical. A lot cuter, I have to admit, but not the same. Ah, it doesn't matter." Artemis felt like he was going to be sick. Those blades were rather rusty.

"Let's go, Artemis," hissed Butler. It took a lot to freak him out, and it was happening. Stargate heard it. "Surely you aren't going to leave so soon?" she asked, a leer crossing her face. Now she did not look pretty. She looked plain evil. Demented.

Butler did not care. He grabbed Artemis' arm and headed for the door. It slid open.

Stargate tutted, crossing her arms and leaning against the table.

As Butler ran through, into the outer chamber, metal ropes twisted themselves around his legs. They, too, were edged with the same metal blades. They ripped through his suit and cut deep into the flesh, holding tight. He broke free and dragged Artemis through, nearly running towards the helicopter. The heat hit them and threatened to push them down onto the blinding-hot sand, but he kept running. The sand flew into the open wounds and it stung worse than anything they'd felt in a long time, but they kept running.

Stargate came to the entrance as the helicopter rose off the ground. Her hair flew about her head in the wind, giving her a demented appearance. She put her finger to her throat and hollered, "I know who is behind this. The Fairy People." Her voice boomed up around them, magnified by her magic.

Artemis slumped in his seat. "Great," he muttered. "Just great."

*

Don't bring on the flames, I know that Artemis is acting a little OOC. But I just wanted to bring around the utter 'evileness' of Stargate.

Well? Do you like it? Do review. I do not care if you aren't signed in. Just tell me your opinion. It makes me feel very gratified to see those mails in my inbox.


	3. Dreaming

Here is the third chapter. I see fifteen people have read the story on the date of digital publication yet only Todd has reviewed. Thank you, Todd.

And, strange as it sounds, this is a continuation.

*

Artemis opened his eyes and found himself in a room unfamiliar to him. The walls and floor were made of metal. There was a refrigerator like machine in one corner, making a low throbbing noise. There was nothing else. His thinking felt oddly dulled, and his vision like as if he were looking through a dirty window. His breath came out in misty clouds, and his limbs felt like lead. He looked down and found a small purplish-black tube attached to his arm. It was connected to the machine.

Thousands of questions floated across his head. Exasperatingly enough, he had no answers for any of them. So he sat on the uncomfortable chair he had been seated in when he woke up and focused on trying to think faster. Sharp, tapping footsteps outside the room told him that someone was coming close. A door opened in the metal wall, and someone stepped in.

It was Stargate. She, for some reason, held a wineglass. She peered at him before her features stretched into a smile. "So you are awake," she said. "Go on, watch me. Blab to your little friends and lead them to me. Ever heard the other side of the story of the Pied Piper of Hamelin?" Artemis' usual pithy retort did not come out of his mouth, even though he'd had one in mind. His lips seemed glued together.

"Oh, I forgot you can't speak," drawled Stargate. She placed the glass on the machine and continued, "The Piper's sister was a witch. Like me. She told her brother to bring all the children to her, and then performed a mass Ritual. You know what that means." He did. _How horrible. _

"I'm sure you wouldn't like me to go into details, but I do not care for your preferences. She took each one of them, fed them an opiate and led them into a graveyard on Halloween. Then she brought up the corpses and told them to do the bloody deed. Tasteful, isn't it?" She knelt near the machine, unhooked the tube and clicked out a small flask from the side. It was the same color as the tube. There seemed to be a liquid inside it. She swirled it before pouring all of it into the wineglass. It was very red and very familiar. She held it up and asked Artemis, "Want some?"

His eyes must've betrayed his expression, for she laughed and said, "Thought not. That means more for me." She raised the glass to her lips and drank all of it in front of him. He would have felt sick if it wasn't for the fact that he already did. She licked the rest of the blood off her lips and looked at him, a hungry look in her eyes. "And it's a pity it's all over. It takes so long to extract enough. Four hours, in fact." So he had been here for more than four hours. Where was Butler? How did he get here without his bodyguard knowing?

"I want more," she muttered. She looked at the machine, and then back at him. "And I'll be getting it." She walked towards him, eyes flickering like dying embers. And then Artemis knew what was going to happen. He flailed in the seat, but to no avail. There was a metal bar holding him in. But Stargate came close to him and unlocked it. He jumped up and hit out, curling his hand into a fist. His heart was thudding against his ribs. There was no Butler here. He was on his own and he didn't want to lose.

Stargate stumbled but regained her footing. She tutted. "Wrong, Artemis," she said. "You shouldn't have done that." She pushed at the air in front of her and a force like an iron anvil crushed into Artemis' stomach, throwing him back against the wall. Almost at once black vines erupted out of the wall and wrapped themselves about him, holding him tight against the wall. He struggled, but the vines grew tighter about his chest until he was forced to stop. Stargate came closer, laughing. Now there seemed to be a deeper laugh in the background, giving the sound an eerie air.

"That's what happens when you pick a fight with a witch," she drawled. She stroked the vines and they relaxed, but not letting him go. She gripped his neck and pressed it back until his white throat was exposed. Then she bit in, gently at first.

Now he knew what those canines were for.

*

Artemis woke up, breathing in heavy, deep gasps. He was in his bedroom, thank goodness for that. Then where had he been before? Then things became clear to him.

He had been seeing things through the eyes of his voodoo replica. It was the replica that the witch had sapped the blood of, not his; yet he felt strangely breathless. His chest suddenly heaved. He couldn't breathe very well. Something seemed to be choking him.

"Butler," he called out. His voice was painfully soft. Couldn't he call louder?

"Butler!" he called again, sacrificing precious breath to speak. Then, giving up, he grabbed his mobile phone and pressed in the number. Butler banged in a moment later.

What he saw must've been rather alarming, for his eyebrows shot up. The bodyguard felt his forehead and checked his pulse before contacting the fairies. This was dark magic, he knew. Artemis' complexion was a horrid off-white, and his eyes were dulled. His temperature was high and his pulse frighteningly weak. Things were very wrong indeed.

It turned out Artemis had let himself in for more than he thought he had when he agreed to help the fairies get rid of the witch.

*

I have reasons for the OOCness. Review and I shall explain all. Till then, keep – uh, reviewing?


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